Everything Is Deluminated
by ambre gris
Summary: "The castle's empty save for every covered statue and me." Three chapters describing the razing of Minerva McGonagall's heart from the time of Albus Dumbledore's death to the end of the war. Some SSMM nudges, if you're into that sort of thing.
1. I

_My heart is dying — can hardly speak_

Albus Dumbledore was gone, and for three days afterward she was gracefully suspended over Hogwarts like a delicate mobile, operating in ellipses solely on a pure adrenaline runoff from the stew of emotions and heartache slow-boiling inside her.

Initially, it had been easy to seal the cracks in her demeanor, eyes sheathed and hands appropriately placed. No one would see a single tear or shaking finger. She conducted business as usual in the most unusual circumstances she'd ever faced, but somehow it all came naturally to the Transfiguration professor.

Organizing a massive funeral for their dearly departed headmaster, arranging for hundreds of students to leave no later than nine o' clock next morning, and trying to convince a board of so-called governors that the school should remain open for the next year were daunting tasks alone; altogether they left her with barely an inch to breathe. And on top of everything, one professor in particular was wanted for murder, making her a target for relentless inquiry and more Ministry grief than she could shake her wand at. But she kept her head under the waves, sucked what air she could through a narrow reed, and carried on, as was expected of her. Surrounding herself with work was all she could do — and all she'd ever done — to stay the inner turmoil she felt.

The first day had been an absolute blur while the second was slower, easier to navigate, though not by much. That day, she, her students, and swarms of mourners from near and far oversaw the burial of a legend that would never _really_ die, even if he'd left them in body much sooner than they'd wished. Forever his name would be synonymous with virtue and self-sacrifice, while Severus Snape's would ring with contempt and treachery. They would be merciless, just as the latter had been.

Minerva did not speak at the service. Several noticed that she had gone very pale, as if she, too, had perished, and her phantom was all that remained to manage the school's muddled affairs. She drifted from place to place automatically, seldom even glanced at the food that was presented to her, and yet she was still outwardly composed and professional as ever, albeit softer spoken and nearly expressionless. Staff and students both worried in muffled whispers, and, of course, Poppy and Pomona fussed louder than she'd liked. She ignored it all because she didn't want their pity. She wouldn't allow it, even if they had to tie her down and hex her for acknowledgement.

·

There had been a somewhat hastily prepared Leaving Feast that eventually turned into a celebration of Albus' life and world-renouned efforts for future peace. She'd lingered, mostly for good show, and then left without a word, stealing away into the dark of the summer night. Surely she had been spotted but she would not be concerned with it. Two seats were already vacant; they couldn't possibly miss a third all that much.

If one were watching closely, they might have seen a grey tabby slinking down corridors or against outer walls. She headed along the edge of the lake, tail high and pace even. The moon was incomplete, its misshapen reflection hanging on the brisk waters. All was still, almost too much so for her comfort, but she carried on, destination in sight.

She reached the Astronomy Tower and was inside within moments, human again after ascending the stairs. It was the one place that no one dared to be or would think to look for others. There, she was safely hidden from watchful eyes and sympathetic murmurings. It was ironic that she would feel secure on any level at the site of his death, but she couldn't explain it, not even to herself. A strange, familiar warmth hovered about her, almost as if his spirit were still hanging around, twinkling and smiling gently. She shivered, knowing this to be impossible, but the friendly, invisible embrace stuck with her, even as she stepped away from it and out onto the ledge from which he'd fallen, already felled.

A breeze blew and the smell of singed walls accompanied the fading tingle of magic that had struck them. The account Harry had provided was foggy at best, and it was hard to imagine exactly what had gone on. Who had cast first? Had Severus hesitated even a bit? She shuddered at the thought of the Potions Master and the crime committed not only against her, but all of them. She had trusted him, not just because Albus did, but because she had genuinely cultivated a liking for him over the years, and because he had never given her a reason to doubt his real allegiance, even as others had tried to convince her otherwise. She swallowed hard, knowing that the former was not entirely true, and that made it all the more difficult to accept, to comprehend what he, their greatest ally, had done. Briefly she wondered where he had gotten to and if she would see him again before the war was over. Her heart cried out in anguish beneath her breast. Seeing him again would mean certain death for her as well, if not by his hand then perhaps her own.

She was the only visitor to the room since the tragedy. Soon enough, Ministry officials would come bustling in to survey and erase the last traces of Albus from Hogwarts and, as they saw it, from everyone's memories. The Ministry, ever the brilliant entity of magical government, believed people were much easier to corral and tame when their torches had been put out. She frowned hard, the muscles in her face protesting a little at the sudden change. No, they would never forget, not even for a moment. But there would be many fights and many more casualties to come in the name of Albus Dumbledore. War did not differentiate between brave or foolhardy or kind, good cause or bad cause. She hoped, with all the hope she could muster, that it would be worth it in the end.

Minerva sighed to the night, sorrow gnawing at her edges and urging a flood, though it did not come. Slowly she turned away from the battlements and became a cat once more before her head could find her hands. The tabby sprinted away from the tower and made for the main hallways of the castle, sights set upon the office that she so reluctantly now called her own. As she roused the gargoyle and waited for the spiral steps to take her upward, she tiredly wondered if Albus' portrait was still slumbering. Her stomach clenched and she found herself hoping again.

·

Much like the first, the third day flew by like someone had taken a time turner to it and executed a fast-forward mode. The students said their good-byes and had been ushered onto the Hogwarts Express somberly, but with spirits much higher than the previous few days. She'd heard talk of Harry and his two best friends aiming not to return at the beginning of the fall term. It was a predictably valiant decision, and while it pained her to see them off for the last time, they would remain in her thoughts. She could never blame Harry for continuing with Albus' work, whatever it might have been. The boy was just doing what he thought to be right.

Before she knew it, mid-morning had fallen into mid-afternoon which had rapidly slipped into dusk. As the sun set upon the school, its emptiness became very apparent to her. The lack of adolescent sounds were a stark contrast to the silence that now took precedence. Even a great majority of the staff had returned to their personal homes and families for the holidays, probably because it was the only chance they would have before all hell was sure to break loose. With no kin and no other place to go to, Minerva made Hogwarts her home, just as she had the past several years.

However, she fully expected it to feel alien this time around. The corridors and the classrooms would always be a little less full. The Great Hall held more shadows now than ever before. The wards had taken on her own magical force but she could sense a disconnect as she went to maintain them. Resident ghosts, even Peeves, had made themselves scarce. It was positively eerie, and she realized that, with the exception of a few, she was alone.

Night fell over the countryside, blanketing it in warm darkness. After a day of tending to things here and there around the place, conversing endlessly and setting dates for meetings with officials and Order members, and finally having a small bite to eat so as to settle her jangled nerves, Minerva found herself wandering up to the circular room she had so desperately dreaded being in since his departure.

"Get used to it," she ground out to no one, surprising herself a little in that she still had a physical voice. All thought as of late had been confined to her head, and she was amazed her vocal chords hadn't given up on themselves. With fervor she entered the office and swept straight to the desk to immerse herself in whatever mindless tasks she could find. As she turned and sat, a pair of azure eyes hooked and caught her in their gaze from the wall. Before she knew it, the portrait was speaking, and she felt the barriers begin to dissolve around her.

"Do not feel so, my dear. It will only hinder your great strength, and there is still much work to be done." With that, Minerva was no longer paralyzed, but the pain she felt made her writhe and grasp desperately for things that were no longer there. She was suddenly awash with the raw emotion she had tried to bury and she was quickly overwhelmed. The painting continued, as if reading her mind, "You'll know what to do when the time comes." Finally, she wept.

_My heart is dying and I won't ever leave the castle keep_

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: The magical world and the endearing characters that inhabit it all belong to the great J.K. Rowling_._ The lyrics here and in the summary are from the song "Castle Keep", which belongs to the talented band Wolf People. Whoever you are, thanks for reading. :) To be continued._  
><em>


	2. II

_Under the evening star; wasting away_

To Minerva it occurred as more of a disappointed annoyance than a surprise that the position of Headmistress was revoked just weeks after she had inherited it.

Truth be told, she hadn't necessarily taken the job eagerly, given the circumstances, but she'd prepared herself to begin the new term as normally as possible, with as little or as many students that made it back. She was there first and foremost to protect the children, the only future that anyone could still count on. Headmistress or no, she would not fail. Her life was wholly theirs.

There was also no shock when Voldemort had acquired the Ministry; rather, she was soaked with dread to the marrow of her bones, like the tide had risen on her shores but refused to retreat. It was so, so obvious, then, that they had ousted her to put their own pawn into play, whose identity eluded and concerned her. She'd stared at the damn letter for what felt like forever, willing an answer but coming away with nothing. The suspense she and her fellow colleagues shared was inexplicable. Things with the Order weren't much different.

As August wore on, fall crept just around the corner. It was only a fortnight since Harry had lost the Trace and dived off the map that the resistance's very own Undesirable No. 1 stepped through the front doors of the school, reversing the course of the entire year with a smirk and a piece of parchment.

Minerva felt the shift, and the castle's unique energy flowed from her, choosing to fill another instead. An emptiness remained that she had no time to ponder as she stood, obsessive timetables forgotten, and tread carefully from her office, speed increasing when she neared the entrance hall. The field of knots in her stomach tied tighter while the breath in her throat barely came.

She was the first to show and look upon him, wanting desperately to unsee, though she could not bring herself to turn away. He took her in, no trace of knowing or recognition on his face. His eyes did not leave hers until she forced herself to look elsewhere, trying to hide the bewilderment he was most certainly sneering about that very moment. In all her concentration, she fell deaf to his footsteps on the marbled floor, approaching her where she weakly stood. By then, Pomona and Filius were rounding a corner, punctuating their arrivals with gasps of horror.

Without a word to them or her, Severus handed over the official declaration, which she begrudgingly took and read in silence, heart sinking down every line. She felt ill at the revelations, the parchment like lead between her fingers. Pomona sidled over and snatched it from her hand before it could flutter to the ground, and the small witch's eyes bulged in their sockets as Severus made an announcement to the rest of the gathering staff, voice laden with deadly venom for the bite he was about to administer. Minerva remained still, mind blank, ready for the blow.

"If it was not easy to ascertain from my return this night, you will all now be aware that the governors, with the Minister's recommendation, have appointed me Headmaster of Hogwarts. Furthermore, you will consign to all board-approved changes to the curriculum and official school activities. Resistance," he added after a slight pause, due to their angry swears, "would be most unwise."

He scanned their faces and found the reaction he seemed to be hoping for, satisfaction most evident upon his features. And then he was gone, and they were all staring after him, save for she, who could only bring herself to sigh at the doors, as if begging them to force his leave.

The words he'd spoken reverberated in her skull well past any decent nighttime hour. Rest was out of the question when she returned to her rooms, thus she resorted to a draught of dreamless sleep, guaranteed to keep her safely in her bed, eyes closed and mouth shut.

As much as she impulsively desired, Minerva knew she couldn't go tearing upstairs for a heated confrontation, not with her pacing around like a caged lioness, bun loosened and robes slightly askew. No, the stakes were higher than ever now. One toe out of line could mean the blood of hundreds on her hands and... she sent the thought away and unstoppered the bottle of tincture that would subdue the anxiety and fear buzzing uncomfortably through her.

After the potion had done its job and long worn off, the visions found her, deep in slumber and unsuspecting. A hand, both tentative and strong, coming to rest on the small of her back felt as real as the loving murmur she thought she heard slithering through her dark locks to curl up in the delicate shell of her ear. She'd cried out, in the dream and in the waking world, aware of both, but was unable to rouse herself from the place in her mind that did not exist.

Some time had passed until she could shake free of the false reality. Upon waking, she was tangled in the sheets and hanging upside down, nearly halfway off the bed, fingertips brushing the floor ever so slightly.

_This is real_, Minerva thought. _You aren't, but this is._

And she laid statuesque until dawn, diamond sadness dripping into her hair as she watched shadows crawl over a ceiling gradually brightened by the rising sun.

·

Albus had always told her to expect the unexpected, though it was the last bit of advice she'd remembered to heed then.

Just twelve hours before the start of term, Severus summoned her to what was now his office, with no specific reason given as to why. She'd stalked, funnily enough, in a very Snape-like fashion up to the circular room and entered to find him sitting behind the large, claw-footed desk, fingers laced and face expectant. She would have growled audibly if it hadn't been for his wand sitting in plain sight. Peripherally she observed the walls, noting that most of the portraits were dozing or away from their frames. Those who were there hardly paid her any mind.

"I have requested your presence in order to issue a warning to you and you alone," he said, danger hanging on his words. Minerva inclined her head slightly, but her expression remained customarily stony. He stood quickly, as though she would leave if he didn't, and then rounded the desk to perch in front of it, arms crossed over his chest. He scrutinized her before speaking again, cutting to the chase. "I won't repeat myself, so listen carefully. It would be in your very best interests to stay out of the Carrows' way, as well as my own. Do what you must for your students but you would be a fool to take any of us on. I do hope you are able to understand that this is the way it is and must be, Minerva."

The sound of her name on his voice sent jolts up her spine and she watched him as he became increasingly fixed upon her person. His deep eyes bored into hers from across the room and she knew then what he was doing, but for some insane reason she had to greatly resist the urge to laugh at such a blatant attempt.

He seemed to have lifted at least this and swiftly he took three long strides to land directly in front of her, trying again to bury into her thoughts. After a moment of wriggling intrusion, she threw up mental blockades without hesitation, effectively halting his progress. Something akin to relief spanned his face but it was fleeting, for when she blinked, it had gone.

Suddenly, being so close to him for the first time in months, she was full of pulse thundering through her, even if it was but a tiny victory for her and an offering of only a fraction of his skills. He probably saw the blood racing under her skin, sensed the magical and longing vibrations of her atomic structure. She could not deny that the encounter made her giddy and nervous like a first-year, as it was reminiscent of their old games in the old days, and she was very aware of her current inability to hide such feeling.

Severus' face softened considerably, and he studied her from head to toe, rendering her naked beneath his wandering eyes. He seemed to poke at all her exposed parts and vulnerabilities without even lifting a finger, something she remembered he was quite good at. When she noticed how close they were, she had to remind herself to breathe.

To her simultaneous dismay and alleviation, he simply leaned in to rest his cheek on her temple, while also subtly tugging at the sleeve covering her right wrist. Surely he could feel her entire being now, flitting and throbbing with painful anticipation?

"Don't look so excited," he uttered, his dark articulation penetrating nerve endings she never thought she'd had. She rollicked in it momentarily but was interrupted by his next words, of which there were only two. "_Be careful_." They'd come so urgently fast that they almost escaped her. Then he pulled away, causing her more grief than he knew.

Severus threw her one last glance, his gloomy countenance falling back into place, as was required. He returned to the desk and sat, this time with his back facing the door, indicating her dismissal. True disappointment nipped at her as she stiffly nodded and exited, making a beeline for her private quarters.

One draught, she mused, would no longer be adequate. So much for being well-rested for the first day of classes.

·

Morale at Hogwarts hit an all-time low from the start. The totalitarian rule of the Ministry was apparent the night the students arrived, and the feeling of oppression quickly spread among them as they were promptly marched to bed without so much as a goodnight or good luck. The next day, schedules were presented, rules were admonished, and doom settled into everyone. Their new headmaster took his seat upon the throne and regarded the sea of apprehensive adolescents before him. His ghost of a smile, brimming with malice, quieted fearful whispers and smothered furtive glances. If one could ever say they had seen Severus Snape happy, it was then.

The staff not clasped in Voldemort's pale hands were silent and obedient under the threat of becoming another Charity Burbage. A few wore their concern plainly but those looking to Minerva mimicked her steady breaths and calm expression. Her face told them to be patient and stay grounded, even as those were feats not easily met. They would have their chance to overthrow this entity, but not until the time came. For now they would play along with the charade and keep their priorities in tact. The only betrayal of her exterior was the napkin she'd wrung to death on her lap. No one noticed, or so she'd thought.

Severus had watched her for the duration of the meal.

The months following held no reprieve for the school and its inhabitants. Attempting to teach under the Ministry's ever watchful eye proved most difficult for Minerva and her colleagues. The students must have felt the frustration tenfold, and she couldn't imagine the amount of knowledge they'd lost due to constant brainwashing and nearly intravenous propaganda. The Death Eater deputies had taken quite well to the task of reigning over the school whether the headmaster was there or not, and though they were feared by many, their most furious magic was saved for those who dared to openly resist them.

As the days ticked by, a fissure formed inside her, growing in depth at an enormous rate. Severus appeared in her dreams frequently, and somehow she was still functioning on what little sleep she was granted. He had not personally addressed her since the start of term and now even refused to look at her. His dream counterpart did nothing to help, and she remained haunted. It was torture that not even the Carrows could rival. Cruel and unusual punishment, that she brought and continued to heap upon herself.

It was beyond mentioning that Minerva's relationship with the Order was greatly strained, for the risk to gather information was much too high to benefit from. There was little she was able to pass on, and even less she was able to receive. When it came time to tell, she almost always lacked what they wanted to hear. She and her fellow members trapped in the school could do nothing but wait and wonder, and eventually they began to feel like Hogwarts was a lost outpost, damp and deserted in the misty countryside.

Winter fell and the accompanying cold was the harshest in recent memory, which only reenforced the isolation felt by all. The holidays came and passed with little notice, as many had forgotten about joyful occasions and good tidings. It was around that time Minerva saw bruises and lacerations appearing in more obvious places on her students. She wanted to take the injuries and make them her own, though doing so would deprive her dear Gryffindors of their badges of honor. She'd saved room in a corner of her heart not so rotted away to immortalize just how proud they'd made her.

By then, the students had begun following a fairly simple routine: sleep, study, rebel, face the music (as Muggles would say), and repeat. They would all pretend not to have heard about Harry Potter's appearance at Godric's Hollow during their own dreary Christmas, but it was a grateful speck of fuel that had rekindled their fires, thawing them slightly. Color and life were refreshed even on the most stricken faces. Hope had been realized, Minerva found herself thinking one day in February. And it was beautiful.

However, the cold would not let her go so easily. Daylight served as her temporary sanctuary, but when she was all alone in the dark of the night, the chill persisted. Severus now plagued every dream without end. Mealtimes and the "random" classroom inspections involving him were unbearable, and though she'd had an inkling that his proximity was not always a coincidence nor an omen, she wished for him to stay away altogether. He was a poison she couldn't extract, not even through means of biting or clawing at the veins he freely traversed.

"Please..." she'd whispered to no one who could hear. "Save us."

_Granted in the evening sun; please don't leave me this way_

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> Thank you for your reviews and alerts. And, as always, thank you for reading. :) The previous disclaimer still applies, of course. To be continued._  
><em>


	3. III

_My heart is dying_

Spring sprung wearily and just as grey and hazy as the hard winter they had suffered. But hope remained and rumors began to fly about, spreading through each House like Fiend Fyre that the Carrows could barely manage to quell. Their struggle was amusing, though they weren't without wrath and hardly discriminated when it came to targets. This complicated things, but more seemed to be taking their lickings with smiles rather than tears in their eyes.

An eventless night in late March found Minerva sentenced to patrol duty round the Astronomy Wing. The place was vacant, had been since the previous summer, but there were those who felt unconvinced of its total security, as if Dumbledore himself were wandering the halls, perhaps seeking revenge or building an army. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes into oblivion at the ridiculous notions of a Dark Lord so obviously frightened of a dead man and the cause that yet outlived him.

She ran a troubled hand along the wall as she walked, absorbing every crevice and crack. It lay unresponsive to her touch and she sighed at the loss she still felt, palm cold against the aged brick and mortar. A high set of windows revealed nothing but a sky filled with droves of clouds, all stars and a feeble moon hidden from sight. The torches along the walls, once lit, were absent of glow and direction. She was alone, as far as she could tell, until she rounded a corner and came upon the tower entryway.

Though there was little light to see by, Minerva's attuned eyes were able to catch the whirl of a robe hem quickly ascending the stairs. She turned feline at once and followed the unknown individual up the steps, keeping her distance when she reached the top. She was hardly addled to happen upon one Severus Snape, though his business there wasn't immediately apparent, and surely he would have known she would be there that night?

Quietly, patiently she observed him. He stood motionless for a while, and she thought maybe he had been petrified on the spot, forever cursed to keep watch over the grounds with an icy glare. Her tail began to swish somewhat nervously, involuntarily, and the next moment he turned his head, acknowledging her with a face of devastation she'd never seen the likes of.

This jilted her so that she jumped back and ran from the area, paws sliding a little on the smooth floor. She nearly collided with a pillar and a few less-than-pleased ghosts on the way back to her quarters, becoming human again only when she deemed it safe. She could only guess what he had been doing there, though she was certain it involved more than merely spying for owls.

When sleep called, Minerva decided to forego her usual draught, desiring to wake without tremors and gaps in her perception. She required a clear head to confront the invader and undo the scrapings and imprints he'd left upon her throughout the year.

_Come what may_, she thought. _I know now that you are real. I'm waiting._

He caught her off guard when he kissed her that night, and though she was certainly dreaming, it felt as real as if she were conscious and they were nose to nose. His prematurely weathered hands found all the curves of her body easily, tracing paths they'd been down before, and she leaned so hard into him that she felt she would shatter if he suddenly let her go.

Pure, unfiltered emotion drenched her entirely, dripping off the ends of her hair and fingers. She was hot and cold and nauseous and steady all at the same time, and in the intensity of it she had to break away in order to maintain herself.

Then the first invisible wall grew between them, separating him from her indefinitely. Severus' eyes, now flickering with something real, reached for her from behind the mental glass but she slowly shook her head as another barrier and then another pushed him further away.

With a bitter smile she said, "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

·

Not long after Minerva had banished Severus from her mind, Harry Potter returned to liberate Hogwarts once and for all.

The air was electric, fraught with magical tension thicker than lake fog. She had gone to investigate a disturbance at Ravenclaw Tower only to come across Amycus Carrow trying to force his way into the common room. She assisted him, if only to shut him up for a moment, which backfired the instant he saw his sister unconscious upon the floor.

Their confrontation escalated until Harry appeared from nowhere, defending her honor in true Gryffindor style, despite his use of an Unforgivable. As she looked upon him, stunned and highly alarmed, her heart swelled enormously beneath the taut scars from two years before. There was no time to sing him his praises or tell him how thankful she was that he was still alive. The older woman could only hope her face did enough of the talking.

Confusion aside, she, Harry, and the wispy Luna Lovegood hastily formulated a plan, though again Harry revealed very little about his true purpose. But Minerva no longer needed to know the finer details; she would see him through, until the very end.

Wasting not another minute, they scurried down the tower stairwell, intent on evacuating the school and implementing defenses. But there was one who would not hesitate to stand in their way, and he stepped out from the shadows, blocking the passage ahead. Minerva was grateful that the two students behind her had hidden themselves, albeit in the plainest sight.

Severus stared her down, demanding an explanation, and the initial anger she'd felt toward him ignited within, though to his visible annoyance she answered him coolly. They exchanged several thinly veiled words, and she felt the familiar probes of Legilimency but welcomed them now, letting him know that yes, she had seen Harry Potter, and just what was he going to do about it?

Then Minerva was brandishing her wand, a spell nearly completed but blocked by him at the last moment, tipping her scales. When she recovered, she felt herself shooting him a smirk not unlike his own, and he stood before them, glued to the spot, ebonies searching her emeralds for some mote of recognition.

_This is it, then_, he seemed to convey. It wasn't a question; he had no qualms that she could detect about coming to blows with her. She gave him a tiny nod, ready for their final battle. To the death.

Ignoring the stubborn protests of her thudding heart, Minerva instead sent a torch in Severus' direction, magically shaping the flames to form a giant ring of pure heat that echoed the fury she harbored inside. He was quick to turn the fire wheel into a dark serpent that shot back toward her. It flew, viciously hissing, and as time slowed she imagined being strangled by it, and then by him, sinking into loving, sweet oblivion...

The snake was reduced to smoke and with a cry of effort, Minerva sent a cloud of daggers hurtling at him, straight for the void where his heart may have once resided. She willed them to land, pierce, shred, but cleverly he'd charmed a suit of armor to come to his aid, taking the tiny knives for its new master.

There was a pause in the fray and she saw a lone eye over a metal shoulder, corners creased and brows knitted in concern. They watched one another, magical energy flowing around them and only them. She could have taken advantage of this and made a debilitating move, but she was just as frozen as he. Even her wand seemed unable to comply.

A commotion erupted, the moment flown away, and the other Heads of House emerged to offer assistance. They spat at the sight of Severus Snape, ready to take his greasy head off, and though Filius had taken control of the living suit of armor, Severus was faster and turned it back against them, commanding it to attack. Adrenaline in overdrive, Minerva pushed past it first and followed him into a nearby classroom, where he intended to make his escape.

In slow motion she watched him turn to drop one last glance upon her. It was hardly apologetic but lacked the contempt she had expected. Tenderness, a trait many believed he could never possess, flourished in that split-second look, and she knew.

And then he vaulted himself through the window, taking flight into the infinite darkness. Just like that he was gone, and her eyes fixed on the space that no longer contained him, mouth agape with a single tear unchecked. She tailored her next reaction to fit the situation, though a part of her regrettably meant what she had feigned to feel.

"Coward..." It started off small, and then she was skidding over to the windowsill, numbly leaning onto shattered glass and bleeding into the wood. "COWARD!" The Scottish drawl, heavy in her exaggeration, flew on the wind and away into the night. Despite this, the one part of her hoped he'd heard.

Reeling, she somehow retained enough wit to call a meeting in the Great Hall and then find her way outside. It was there that Minerva and her fellows set about fortifying the school, aiming huge concentrations of magic at the air above. The barriers burst and bloomed in the sky, beautiful in all their might. They would hold, but only for a time, a time that would be short and harrowing and when they would need one another most.

A highly anxious crowd of young witches and wizards looked on and she stood at the head of an army that Voldemort would never be able to touch. The love she felt for them and for every student that had passed through her classroom was unbreakable. He would never understand this nor would he ever have it. He would never feel the joy of watching it grow stronger every day gone by, knowing it would last forever, unwavering.

Sentiments and memories and love saturated every hollow within her. Minerva projected everything she had into her spells and shields, the magic emitting from her illuminating the outer walls of their great school. No, it would not last for long, but it gave them just enough room to prepare for the night ahead; just enough to kiss one another goodbye, to love for perhaps the last time. But no matter the outcome, win or lose, _they_ would always hold.

·

Rubble dusted Minerva's hair, caught in her eyelashes, clung to her robes. She had felt every wound to the castle as one of her own. There would be bruises, scrapes, mysterious marks inside and out. And every casualty was a hole waiting for a filling that would never come.

Harry had been to hell and back, quite literally, all to secure the future of the Wizarding world held dear by so many. The prophecy was complete and his smile stretched for miles, though tired and battle-worn, but that night he was guaranteed to have the best sleep he'd had in sixteen years.

Amidst the celebrators, the mourners, the awe-struck, Harry was able to pass on a whispered message to Minerva about Severus' whereabouts, and she'd listened without inhaling even once.

"Innocent," he'd said. "Snape was innocent. I wish... I'd known more. I wish I had believed he could be the hero that he really is." She stared beyond him sadly, giving him a nod of understanding. His claim was irrefutable. She didn't have to watch the memories to believe what he'd seen. After a moment of tense silence he excused himself, his concerned gaze lingering a little long before he made to return to his friends and supporters in the Great Hall.

Minerva sighed deeply, unwilling to replenish the air in her lungs afterward. Almost reluctantly she slid into her tabby form and journeyed to Hogsmeade in a dirty daze, the morning sun fighting its way through the loitering pall of ruin. All was quiet in the village, its residents most likely congregating elsewhere to joyously ring in the end of the longest Wizarding war. It was only fitting that she would go to him now.

Human, she snuck into the Shrieking Shack with ease, the dilapidated building now just that. There was no longer anything foreboding or eerie about the place. Any and all signs of magic were kaput, though she could not explain the strange magnetic pull she felt tugging her toward the room that had become his death chamber. When she got her guts up to regard him for the last time, her erratic pulse slowed and she found herself to be rather calm.

"Merlin's beard you look so... peaceful."

She kneeled at his feet, her head curiously tilted to one side, inspecting the former Potions Master as though he were an archaeological dig site of the utmost fascination. The vessel he had so dejectedly occupied was worn beyond its years, but his face had taken on a serenity that would never be compromised, not even with the gaping wounds that decorated him. If Voldemort had thought he was doing an evil thing by killing this man, his assumption seemed to have been very far off the mark.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I wanted... to die, just to be rid of you," Minerva confessed. "And yet you remained. I forced you out and you never gave up. You never lost sight of any of us, any of this, even as we had. You were incredible. Are..." She expected him to grimace at her assessments but was not disappointed when he didn't. With a gesture of her wand and nothing else to say, a dark sheet was conjured and draped lovingly over his body. This was Severus Snape, finally at rest.

Minerva floated back to the castle on a heart lighter than air. It would take time to rebuild and restore Hogwarts to its former grandeur, though as she looked upon it, she was able to see a place glowing with resilience and spirit. Every wall and column could be ground into sand, and yet it would endure.

The woman allowed herself a small smile on the debris-laden front lawn. Under any circumstance, Hogwarts would always be home.

_And I won't ever leave the castle keep_

* * *

><p><strong>Note:<strong> The end! First and foremost, I apologize for not responding to reviews individually. My life is hectic and I often forget the small things, even if it isn't my intention to do so. With that, thank you all for the kind feedback and for reading. As always, all previous disclaimers apply. Until next time!_  
><em>


End file.
